


A Life Together - Raventrust Week 2020

by Kalla_Moonshado



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, M/M, Raventrust Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: A collection of ficlets/short stories written for Raventrust Week 2020. Not all of the prompts were used at first, but eventually, this will include all 14.Some of them will be set outside of Conspiracy of Ravens, others will be set within.
Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh, Raventrust - Relationship
Comments: 35
Kudos: 23





	1. August 24, 2020 - Quiet Night

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Conspiracy of Ravens after Replaced - but nowhere in particular.

Quiet Night

Thunder rumbled overhead as Medivh slid one of his Steamy Romance novels back into the shelf. He looked up and sighed, as he _had_ been about to go up to the observatory to watch a meteor shower. Well, no hope of that now, he supposed.

He turned around to find Moroes standing in the doorway, a very slight smile on his face, one eyebrow raised, a tray of tea, biscuits and fruit in his hands. Without a word, Moroes set his burden down. “Khadgar is on his way up,” he said as he added fuel to the fireplace, then retreated toward the doorway.

“I suppose the storm must be wreaking havoc on his joints,” Medivh said mildly, his own eyebrows raising in inquiry.

Moroes shrugged. “I imagine so. He looks like he does when he’s in pain and refusing to show it.” He grinned. “In other words, like usual.”

Medivh rolled his eyes and waved Moroes off. “Oh be nice. You’re not much better. Go take something and retire. I think we can care for ourselves the rest of the night.” Moroes nodded his thanks and left.

Medivh settled on the couch that had replaced the chaise that had once been in this little sitting room off the library. It had far too many memories attached to it - and none of them particularly ones he or Khadgar wished to revisit. Well, other than the very first. He smiled a little as he leaned forward to see what kind of tea Moroes had brought up. The mage’s eyes closed as he inhaled the sweet scent of peacebloom, honey and cinnamon. The perfect thing for a stormy night, good company and perhaps a book or a game.

Thunder shook the tower as Khadgar stepped into the sitting room, wincing at the noise, the trembling of the stones around them, and of course the pain in his knees. Without a word, he sank onto the couch beside Medivh.

“Have you taken something?” Medivh asked as Khadgar groaned softly.

Khadgar sighed. “I’m fine, Medivh. Just an ache. It will pass.” Medivh snorted. “No, really - I’m fine. If it gets bad, I’ll get some willow bark.”

“You’ll need stronger than that - the storm coming in is going to be a bad one.”

“I’m not taking mageroyal, Medivh.”

“Spoilsport.”

Khadgar rolled his eyes and leaned back. “If my knees are bothering me, do you really think I should be on them, or twisted about like a pretzel?”

Medivh snorted again. “Promise you’ll add liferoot to that -“

Moroes shuffled back in, putting a mug in Khadgar’s hands, glaring at him in a way that Medivh knew well; he had been on the receiving end of it often enough. “I’ll know if you put that in a plant, Master Khadgar. Good night to you both.”

“Thank you, Moroes,” Khadgar sighed, looking into the mug. Cautiously, he sniffed the contents to find willow bark, liferoot, peacebloom and… “He slipped mageroyal into it."

Medivh smirked. “Still. It will help - and liferoot should cancel the side effects, hmm?” He turned to Khadgar, but Khadgar didn’t answer; he was already draining the mug. Medivh winced. Khadgar must be in serious pain. “Headstrong git,” he sighed affectionately.

Khadgar glanced at him, but didn’t answer until he set the empty mug back on the table, reaching to pour a cup of the fragrant tea and doctor it with cream before sipping it and wincing at his scalded tongue. “Not as bad as you get sometimes,” he retorted. “Still. Unpleasant.” He took a more cautious sip of the tea. “Cinnamon. Hm. That will help with the swelling too.” He set his cup down and poured a cup for Medivh, adding cream to it, then looking up. “You shouldn’t need to add more honey or sugar,” he said quietly, passing over the cup.

Medivh took the cup and sipped, then shook his head and leaned back. “No, this is delightful as is.”

A flash of lightning, followed shortly by a deafening clap of thunder startled them both as they turned as one to look out the window. “So much for a quiet night,” Medivh sighed.

“I don’t know. We’re not occupied, and can settle quietly and watch the storm, be warmed by the fire, enjoy each other’s company,” Khadgar pointed out, leaning back with his cup. A moment later, he shifted to lean against Medivh, who slid his free hand out from between them and draped it over Khadgar’s shoulders.

“Very true. It has been a while since we’ve done that.” Medivh sipped his tea and closed his eyes. “Not since the ceasefire.” Khadgar hummed in reply. “There is much ahead of us still, though, Young Trust.”

Khadgar hummed again, watching a streak of lightning cross the window, and counted to six before thunder rattled the glass. “Ahead of us, yes. But not tonight.” He burrowed himself a little closer into Medivh’s side, and felt Medivh’s arm tighten. “Not tonight.”


	2. August 25, 2020 - Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of contemplation and a touch of soul-searching as Khadgar and Medivh look ahead to the trials awaiting them in Shadowlands.
> 
> Or, a likely scenario between medivhthecorrupted's Medivh and my Khadgar in-game, as we RP our way to the Shadowlands expansion. Because yes we do. And not even Moroes (played by my other half) can stop them from being idiots. Or having moments like this.

Trust

Trust.

Such a simple word, that. Five letters in Common. Seven in Dwarven - Old Dwarven, anyway. A handful of characters to imply a simple word.

But it was so much more.

The howling above them took on a pitch that chilled Khadgar to the bone, and then seeped into his marrow. There were things in that world above them that hovered over them like a pall over a grave-side wake. But they had to. This was something they had to do just like, so long ago, he had to spill blood that was so much more precious than his own. He turned to Medivh, ready to ask if his former mentor was prepared for what lay before them.

Medivh’s eyes were on the gateway, wide, unseeing. Terror was in every line of him, his very fingers trembling as they gripped Atiesh. He knew what was on the other side. He had seen the other side. He had been there, briefly. Assaulted on every side by everything he couldn’t stop - and things he didn’t bother to. And this time, he was going in the flesh - flesh he did not feel he deserved after all that had transpired. After all of those others he had sent across - from the moment of his birth to the moment Khadgar had freed his soul. Every mistake he had made, every decision that was only slightly slanted by the demon that resided in his very essence - they were all his in the end.

Medivh wanted very much to remain on _this_ side of the gateway, thank you. But there was nothing for it. They had to go. This was something they had to do, just like watching as Khadgar’s life was pulled from him in violence. _Until you screeched ‘enough’ - and it was. It was enough to save him. It was enough to leave him enough strength to finish you so Anduin could…_

Khadgar reached out a hand and rested it on Medivh’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. We’re going together - and we’ve always been stronger as one than we are apart.” Medivh nodded, absently, his eyes still focused on the howling storm above them. “Trust me,” Khadgar murmured softly, calling back to a conversation held decades ago. “Trust me, Medivh. I won’t leave your side.”

The hand slid from Medivh’s shoulder and was held out, palm up. Medivh’s eyes finally moved, lowering to look at Khadgar for the first time. “I trust you,” he replied, cautiously. He took a deep breath, and his hand took the proffered one. “With my life and soul, Young Trust. I trust you. But can you trust me?”

Khadgar squeezed Medivh’s hand. “I trusted you with my education, with my life, and my heart. My soul followed as a matter of course. What’s going to stop me now?”

Medivh leveled him with a stern glare. “The voices. They will pull at you. Whisper to you. They will be angry. So very angry. Anyone you’ve wronged will rush to you to level the score - and finding us alive and together, I fear all of those I have wronged and destroyed will be determined to not only separate us but destroy us both.”

“He’s there. Isn’t he.” Khadgar lifted an eyebrow. “Llane, I mean.”

Medivh winced. “I’m sure. I did not see him when -“

“He believed in you to the bitter end, Medivh. Do you think he won’t listen, even now, after he has had time to witness the things you have done while you were free of the demon? You know as well as I that Anduin would have told him about it, before or after.” Khadgar tugged at Medivh’s hand. “Trust in them as you do me.”

Medivh shook his head, but it was not a gesture of negation. “How do you do it, Khadgar?”

“If you let go of hope, you let go of life. If there is no hope to light the way, then Death can find you all the easier in the dark.”

Medivh frowned at Khadgar, and wondered where it was that his former apprentice had learned such wisdom.

“It was that stubborn spark within you that kept Sargeras from destroying me, Medivh. Trust it.”

There was that word again.

Trust.

Such a simple word.

But - as Medivh looked back up into the gateway, he realized that the word wasn’t simple at all. He slotted his fingers with Khadgar’s, shifted his grip on Atiesh. He was ready.


	3. August 26, 2020 - Raven Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flight of a mated pair.

Raven Form

The wind rushed across Khadgar’s face, and he tilted his head to lean against it. For all that he had started out as a specialist in flames and fire, he had since mastered all of the elements and felt the most comfortable with arcane. Or frost, depending on the situation. Air was one of his favorites, of course, considering. There was nothing like a warm breeze in springtime. Nothing like that first bite of cold whipping through the robes as the first snow falls. Or the crisp scent carried by autumn. Or the sweetness of a summer breeze off the ocean, carrying salt and the ozone of an approaching storm.

Lightning flashed overhead, pulling Khadgar’s head out of the proverbial clouds, and he paid more attention to his surroundings.

Medivh was below him, all sleek lines and perfect form, a black shadow against the darkening ground as stormclouds obscured the sun and sky above them. He held his body tight, limbs tucked in and head tilted down as he dove toward the ground, his wings snapping out at the last minute to catch a turbulent thermal.

“Showoff,” Khadgar muttered, banking and spreading his tail to gain height with his turn, listening to Medivh’s joyous cries.

One thing that would always, always bring the older mage joy was this - the freedom of flight. To become something else entirely and just _be_. Khadgar, in his younger days, had not understood it as much as he did now - considering that now, he could escape his duties in Dalaran and leap off one of the tall spires and spread his wings and feel the wind in his feathers, caressing each vane as it whipped across his wings, his back, his chest, his tail. And he could hide amongst the other ravens in the wild, jeering at the rest of the Council should they come looking - along with every one of the rest of the flock he was hiding in.

He could understand Medivh’s need for escape. Watching the older, darker raven in flight was … delight. In that time, he shed his burdens and shrugged off the mantel of Guardian he had been born with, exchanged raven-feather robes for real feathers, and danced with the clouds, the wind his music, the sun his spotlight.

Tonight, however, _they_ danced. They danced to a storm song of danger and excitement, the lightning flashing to offer mood lighting, the thunder the beat of their hearts, the rain rolling off perfectly oiled feathers their troubles falling to the earth below as they danced the currents and thermals. Khadgar dove to match Medivh’s height and they wove in and out of the tree-line of Duskwood, carefully avoiding webbed branches and their residents.

Medivh led the chase, knowing without looking that Khadgar would keep up. He had a destination in mind, a corner of the Twilight Grove and near the roots of the ancient tree that resided there - a remnant and portal of the Emerald Dream. He led Khadgar up into the branches, calling out challenge, calling out beckons, calling out joy.

And they descended the trunk, side by side, to brush talons over the tall grasses as they glided across the Grove to their destination.

And there, they shed their feathers in exchange for robes. And then shed their robes.

And then shed the world for each other.


	4. August 27, 2020 - Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than my previous ones, this one goes through a residual haunting that's probably fairly common in Karazhan even now.  
> Considering that both the raid and the 5-man Mythic were conducted through said haunting. Just - in fragments and not specifics.  
> So here's the specifics. (Gleaned from TLG, Chronicles, in-game lore, etc.)

Haunted

The night had been quiet. Had been. Until the blare of a pipe organ rattled the windows of the upper stories. Khadgar, who had been most recently on battle-lines, was upright and pulling on a robe before Medivh could even pry his eyes open. For a moment, he stared at the bright mage-light bobbing above their bed, blinking in confusion. And then the sound hit him. Hard. Khadgar was already pulling low felted boots on his feet as he hopped down the stairs of the loft-space, leaving Medivh fumbling for robe and slippers.

Medivh caught up with Khadgar at the door to the observatory a floor below, taking the stairs two at a time as he had when he was younger, and both continued downward towards the source of the sound, growing louder and almost deafening. The opera house - one of Medivh’s greater conceits - was the logical source of the sound, it being the only pipe organ in the tower, though the echo made it seem as though the sound might have been coming from a gallery floors below them, or possibly one of the smaller ballrooms in the guest wing.

A hand on Khadgar’s chest stopped him from entering the opera house gallery proper, and a voice snapped at him over the deafening notes. “I don’t recall seeing _you_ in the tower before, and certainly _not_ on the Master’s guest lists. Who are you?” Khadgar blinked, stupidly, at the usher, completely wrong-footed. Before he could open his mouth, however, Medivh slid an arm around him.

“Really now. Not recognizing my escort for the evening? One would think your head as empty as your eyes.”

The usher snapped to attention - and promptly faded from sight.

“Medivh?” Khadgar turned his head slowly to look at Medivh, as the older mage had frozen, and his eyes had widened into a frightened glaze. His arm slid from around Khadgar and he stumbled forwards toward the balcony of the gallery and any color that had been in his face drained from it.

Khadgar frowned, then moved forward, realizing that there was light. And sound - sound that might have been a hundred voices, or more. There was the tinkle of fine crystal as well, and the unmistakable sound of a cork drawn from a bottle, absurdly loud over the deafening pipe organ, still playing a slow waltz.

The ballroom below was full of people. Their dress was Royal-Court worthy, perhaps a half-century out of date, but no less dazzling than what Khadgar saw in Varian’s - or more recently - Anduin’s Court. He moved a hand to rest against Medivh’s back as the older mage sagged against the balcony railing, burying his head in his arms.

He thought he had stopped this. He thought that, when he had taken the power of the crumbling structure of the tower and grounds, that he had stopped the residual moments in time, shaken loose by… whatever it was that made Karazan’s Time and Reality so thin and distorted. And he also knew, that there was something worse going on here tonight. And he knew where to find it. He lifted his head and took Khadgar’s hand. “It’s time to face the reality of what happened here, Khadgar. I thought I had come to terms with it when I explained why so many of the rooms were unused - but. Well. It’s time for you to see for yourself why I had to isolate myself.”

Khadgar blinked and followed Medivh’s tug on his hand, back up several flights of stairs and onto a wide balcony overhang that overlooked the now-dead orchards.

Medivh’s voice, younger, stronger, far more arrogant and sharp than Khadgar ever heard him, echoed off the side of the tower as Medivh himself led his former apprentice to stand before a woman Khadgar recognized at once. Aegwynn. And hovering over the balcony was a Blue dragon. Both of them were in a heated argument with Medivh - and from the way Medivh spoke, he was not backing down.

Khadgar freed his hand and slid his arm around Medivh’s waist, pulling the older mage closer - but neither looked away from the altercation. And it was an altercation now, as spells - or rather, echoes of spells - bounced from the stone and destroyed railings, the stone falling to where it now stood, as it had for the past several decades.

The Medivh of years before began shouting, as did Aegwynn - but Medivh was faster. One hand shot out toward her, the other toward the Blue, now roaring in pain and anger. Khadgar had seen some of this play out - but never so clear. He never heard the words that damned not only the Blue - now beginning to _melt_ from flames eating the poor creature from within - but Medivh himself and his mother.

Aegwynn vanished in a flare of pure arcane power. The Blue dropped to the balcony, consumed by flames.

And Medivh stepped back as backlash from whatever spells he had used rebounded from their targets into the tower.

The organ stopped playing abruptly. The calmer sounds of conversation below, very faint out here, turned to screams of terror and pain.

Khadgar shuddered. Medivh tugged at his hand, pointing his chin at the Medivh of years before, and they followed his path. Destruction was evident as they went - some of it they had cleared and repaired now, but the echoes of fallen rubble, destroyed stairs, toppled railings and destroyed furniture was strewn in their path. The Medivh of years ago had some work climbing over and through it, but he seemed determined to get somewhere.

He ran across the ballroom, Khadgar and Medivh following him at the same pace - until they reached…

“Moroes…”

Medivh of years before reached down and touched the terrified Castellan of Karazhan, and the man jerked away, his eyes wide, his face a rictus of terror. He clearly did not see Medivh at all, his irises darting from side to side, taking in the destruction of the dining room and the ballroom beyond it. In a gesture that Khadgar recognized, Medivh rested his hand on Moroes’ forehead - a tender gesture Khadgar himself had once been recipient of when he was still just a boy, and one that Medivh occasionally bestowed him now when he overworked himself. Gentle fingers brushed back hair from the Castellan’s face, and shaking hands reached to pull him into an embrace.

Medivh was speaking, echoing words Khadgar couldn’t hear from the mage before them - desperate apologies, pleas for forgiveness, and a promise to _forget_. The spell was quickly done - and as the Medivh of years past lifted the Castellan into his arms, they and the bodies collapsed in the dining room and the ballroom faded away.

Khadgar turned to Medivh, stunned.

“This is the first time since I returned here that this has played out entirely. It played out often enough before that I had to leave. It was the one thing I could not pull entirely from the stones when I took what was left of Karazhan’s power before I went to deal with what was going on leading up to what is now known as The Third War. I am … deeply grateful that it never replayed when you were here.” Medivh’s voice was quiet, and he leaned to the side against the wall of the dining room - which Khadgar now recognized as the one he had called his last vision in before he and Garona escaped the tower.

“But I did. At least a part of it.”

“I know. You called a part of it here. And I had told you shortly after that you were very clever. And you were. I saw, for the first time, with my own eyes what happened. And you and my daughter escaped before more harm could…” Medivh shook his head, his words dying in his throat. Khadgar wordlessly took him into a tight embrace, and held him for a long moment.

“I will never escape what I’ve done.”

“What _He_ had done, Medivh. It wasn’t -“

“Enough of it _was_. Now do you understand my reaction when I learned what Sylvanas Windrunner has done?” Medivh pulled away enough to look Khadgar in the eyes. “And now I understand so much of the few clues I was given. And it all only raises more questions - and I can’t - I can’t -“

Khadgar sighed. “You’re not alone, Medivh. I will be there with you - I swore to you I would. Even before, when you were still _bound_ to this tower, I swore to you I would never leave you alone again. And I will not. We will go. For now… I think both of us need a distraction.” He leaned to kiss Medivh’s forehead softly. “It’s near enough to morning. I do think a breakfast in Stormwind is in order. Come on. Let’s get some proper clothing on.”

Step by trembling step, Khadgar led Medivh back upstairs.

And they did go to breakfast. And then they spent the day out of the tower, well away from Karazhan and her memories.


	5. August 28, 2020 - Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Necessary after yesterday after all.

Stargazing

Very few people would guess that the hills surrounding Stormwind were perfect places for stargazing. Once the city below went to sleep, the clock towers the only illumination, dim in the distance, the sky became so clear it was a wonder it didn’t cast more light. The Blue Child was sitting on the horizon, inching upwards - but even that did not disturb the fine pinpricks that swept across the deep blue of the sky.

Medivh lay on his back, his arms out to his sides. The cool night air did not disturb him in the slightest, even the salted breeze that came from the sea. He grew up here. This, more so than Karazhan could ever be, was _home._ He and Anduin had come up here once, when they were young. They hadn’t done much in the way of stargazing that night, but Medivh had noticed as he drifted off, that there was potential - and once he had achieved the ability to turn into a raven and take flight where he pleased - he came here. Just like now.

Khadgar’s hand twined into his, and he smiled. They were quiet now, but Medivh had _plans_ for them.

Before long, the only stars Medivh counted were reflected in Khadgar’s eyes, dark as the sky, intense as the faint glow of his irises, slim rings around dark pupil. The quiet of the night was punctuated by startled gasps, inarticulate affirmations, soft pleas. Uncaring if they were heard, they shattered the quiet night as the Blue Child slid into place above them, casting them both in soft hues.

Medivh was bonelessly content and curled up against Khadgar’s side, his eyes on the horizon where the Blue Child began to set as the White Lady rose on the other. “Was this your intention?” he heard from beside him, and he turned his head, once again finding himself gazing at the reflection of the stars in Khadgar’s eyes.

“It isn’t always, but… when it is, it _ia_.” Medivh grinned in reply. Khadgar huffed softly. “Perhaps it’s the fact that we both spent so many nights gazing up at the stars and wishing. Perhaps those wishes are finally coming about, little by little.”

Khadgar hummed softly with a slight nod. “I can see that. Of course, now that I’m permitted, it can be difficult to keep my hands off you.” Medivh laughed. “I’m serious. For so long I avoided touching you in fear that I would go too far and you would send me away.”

“Until you decided to try to blow up the library,” Medivh chuckled, “and set us on a path that … well. We don’t know where it leads yet, but I’m content walking it with you.”

“May the stars light and guide our path then,” Khadgar murmured, horribly botching a night elven blessing.

He only got a soft snore in answer.


	6. August 29, 2020 - Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, reunions. Sweet, bittersweet, sad, all.  
> But what if the reunion isn't necessarily with a person?

Reunion

It had been far too long since Khadgar had left Dalaran. He honestly had not really intended to go back, abdicating his so-called ‘leadership’ to Modera, pending the remainder of the Council’s vote. As such, he had not expected to be summoned back for any reason any time soon.

Of course, this time, he was not alone.

Medivh was curious as he walked through Dalaran at Khadgar’s side. They moved slowly enough so that Medivh could do a little sight-seeing, taking note of anything he might wish to inspect further before they returned home. (And he had - Amiee’s sweetshop, the toyshop, and several other little stalls and larger shops where quills were on display, there were new ink colors, journals bound in silk and leather and linen, two herb shops and of course he was fascinated by the new needles and thread discovered on the Broken Isles.) It had been a very long time since Medivh had set foot in Dalaran - the last time being shortly before his death. Not that he could admit that, considering he had been here to kill. _No, murder,_ he corrected himself. He still felt pangs of guilt, considering that Khadgar had been the target’s pupil before the boy had left Dalaran to come to him.

But that boy was no longer a boy by any stretch of the imagination. His stride was confident, his head held high. He _belonged_ in this city, he _owned_ this city. As they ascended the steps to the Citadel, Medivh let himself smile at that confidence. How far his apprentice had come. How _proud_ he was of all that he had accomplished.

There was a distinctly disapproving murmur as the pair moved into the main chamber. Khadgar ignored it as he ascended the steps, Medivh still at his side, though Medivh was not entirely certain about this any longer.

_“No matter what, remain at my side - no on will question you. No one will bother you. If they try, they’ll have to go through me, and more of them would rather jump off the edge of Dalaran at this point than upset me. During the Legion campaign, I showed more of what I was capable of than I would have liked - but we had no choice. But they all know - even the ones who think I’m still just a child - that I am not to be trifled with. I learned tactics at a master’s hand. I learned magic at yours. I learned hardship from birth. There is nothing they can hurl at me that will faze me anymore, and they know it. And if I choose to bring you with me, they will just have to deal with it. Kalec, Modera and Vargoth all know that if I choose to bring you into something, there is a reason for it. Even if my reasoning is because I want you with me.” Khadgar grinned. “Come on.”_

The Chamber of Air had been the Council’s way of keeping themselves mysterious back when Khadgar was younger. Khadgar made certain that it was far more practical now. Rather than the shrouds and the mystery, it was now open-aired, a table and comfortable chairs, and anyone brought before the Council would no longer likely wet themselves from terror.

The murmur of disapproval that had met them downstairs was absent here. In fact, any conversation there had been amongst the other six had ceased.

Jaina was the first to speak, and her question was a bit more sharp than she probably intended. “What is that murderer doing _here_?”

Khadgar lifted an eyebrow. “Well, now that depends,” he replied, apparently unruffled. “On which one of us you’re talking about.”

Jaina blanched, and dropped her eyes. Ansirem immediately engaged her in low conversation as Kalec stepped away from her to approach the pair.

“She’s still not used to being back,” the Blue offered. Khadgar waved a hand.

“She’s never going to be used to being back here, not after being home. Though I see it was not just me you called back.” Khadgar had a chance to look around - and there were more people coming in now, ones he knew, some he didn’t.

“The situation is not a good one. Anyone who has been on the Council, their aides, their students… anyone we know has a good head on their shoulders is attending this - and I for one will not turn away a Grand Magus and Guardian’s expertise,” Kalec said, nodding to Medivh.

“This is not the reunion any of us really hoped for,” Modera sighed as she approached. “And I am sorry for that. I had hoped to see you - both - again on a better note.” She waved a hand at the table where others were settling down. “Welcome home, Khadgar. This mess is huge, so we may as well get started.”

Khadgar and Medivh settled themselves at the table, and Modera moved to lay a map of Azeroth in the center of the table. Surprisingly, it was Kalec who spoke first. “So. Here’s the situation.”

Ten minutes later, Khadgar wished for a very strong mug of coffee, one of Aimee’s strudels, and a very large dose of willow bark.


End file.
